


First and Only: A La Huerta Christmas

by marmolady



Series: A New Reality: Endless Ending [14]
Category: Endless Summer (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:22:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22152454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolady/pseuds/marmolady
Summary: (Endless Ending– set after Chapter 1 of my longer fic, ‘Broken Chains’) Taylor had pledged to give her life for the saving of the world, and time with her friends in their La Huerta home is running out. It’s her first Christmas Eve, and if Vaanu’s prediction is to come to fruition… her last. It may be more than she and Estela can bear.
Relationships: Estela Montoya/Main Character (Endless Summer), Quinn Kelly/Michelle Nguyen
Series: A New Reality: Endless Ending [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366216
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	First and Only: A La Huerta Christmas

Holidays took on a new, almost sombre colour on La Huerta; shadows as they were of traditions from a world that now burned. They brought with them despair for all that had been lost, and at the same time, a determined hope to make this new future, this life in a miraculous shielded bubble, hold some meaning… to honour those who couldn’t be saved. It was in these times that the twelve Catalysts most depended on one another. For Estela and Taylor, though, that bittersweet feeling hit differently, for they alone could foresee a future beyond La Huerta’s shores; a future that demanded the sacrifice of what they held dearest. Each holiday celebration was a first for Taylor, and if she went ahead with her plan to rejoin Vaanu, those firsts were all she’d ever have.

So, she soaked those experiences up, taking in every second, every moment shared with her friends. In the preparations for Christmas, Taylor threw herself into the burgeoning festivities. Time was running out for her, with her departure planned for the beginning of the year– a year and a day after being wed to Estela. For her –for them both– this Christmas marked the beginning of the end. It was a weight carried quietly, a burden kept between the two of them. Everyone had quite enough of their own heartache to contend with as it was– Taylor wanted only to _relieve_ that heartache, not add to it.

The day’s holiday preparations had centred around the procurement of a Christmas tree; and with no Christmas tree farms to offer custom to, heading into the mountains and bringing down a massive fir tree with the help of a friendly yeti was par for the course. The group had already decided that the Elysian Lodge would be the most appropriate venue for what, to them, was a traditionally a wintry occasion, and it was something of a relief that lugging a large tree all the way down to the Celestial would not be necessary.

“Have we considered whether this monstrosity will actually fit through the front doors?” Aleister asked, a slight sneer on his face as he trudged after the tree-hauling procession. Trust Craig to take the ‘bigger is better’ approach to decorating; the tree was _colossal_.

Craig’s enthusiasm couldn’t be dampened. “Sure, bruh! Or we could make the Estela-shaped hole bigger and go in that way. Stick it straight into the front room.”

From the front of the pack, Taylor winced, glancing to Estela beside her. To her relief, Estela didn’t appear bothered by the reference to the smashed-up window—a by-product of the explosive confrontation with Lila so many months ago. The window had since been boarded up and discreetly decorated, but could easily be utilised if needed. Taylor would rather leave it be. It was just a stupid little reminder, but a reminder nonetheless, of what had been a deeply traumatic morning. Estela didn’t need that. Instinctively, Taylor took her wife’s hand and squeezed. The pressure was returned, but Estela seemed distant, as if only vaguely aware of the bickering that had erupted.

“We’ll try the doors first,” Taylor declared. “If it doesn’t fit, I guess we could go through the front, but that sounds like a whole lot of mess… let’s just try and keep things simple.”

“ _Mrrp!”_ Furball chittered as he gambolled merrily through the snow. Quite literally in his element, he led the group—and his yeti adoptive mother who was tethered to the tree. That everyone had come up into the cold mountains was strange behaviour, but by his reckoning it was a welcome change from the hot and sticky surrounds of the Celestial and Elyys’tel.

From up on the yeti’s back, Quinn couldn’t repress a sunshiney smile as the lodge, already decked out with fairy lights draped around the doors and windows, came into view. There was so much that had been lost… and yet she refused to let herself forget that the very fact that she was living to see another Christmas was something of a miracle. She scritched the yeti’s neck appreciatively. “You’re doing a great job, Arktos—and Furball!”

“ _Mm-rrrp!”_

As it turned out, getting the tree in through the front doors was not to be much of a challenge, but actually getting the towering thing secured upright was. Overconfident—what with being high on Christmas spirit and all–, sure he could handle hauling the weight, Craig had insisted he take sole control of the rope at the top. A large trunk through an antique glass table later, he conceded that he and Sean had better make a team effort of it. Grace and Zahra worked together to embellish the tree with an extravagant light display which responded to the music played over the speakers, and then it was a free for all. Furball scampered between the many sets of legs, excited for whatever weird ritual his human friends were engaging in, and mesmerised by the shining baubles that they placed amongst the needles. Everyone had their own way they’d always done things, and with a lot of strong characters around the tree, it was not long before voices became raised.

Taking a step away from the hubbub, Taylor searched the room with soft eyes, seeking the one she loved. Estela was hanging back, watching from the doorway, her expression drawn and melancholy. The sight made Taylor’s heart ache. This time of year was never going to be easy on any of them, but for Estela, it had to be so bizarrely bittersweet. This kind of noisy family gathering might have been second-nature for some, but Estela had never really had that… she’d had her mother and her uncle, never anyone else. A Christmas like this, surrounded by such energy—loud, forceful, loving—it would be a once off. As it would be for Taylor.

“Keeping out of the chaos?” Taylor asked as she leaned against the doorframe. Her gaze flickered over Estela’s conflicted face, concerned. If there was anything she could do to make this okay, anything at all….

“We never really _did_ Christmas trees in San Trobida. Wrong climate.” Estela shrugged. Her eyes were growing misty, but she fought it. There wasn’t the damn time to wallow. Taylor would soon be _gone_. To pretend to be happy would be a lie, but to waste this precious time hurting was unconscionable. Taylor deserved her brief life to be wonderful; she deserved it to be _perfect._ “It’s nice, though. I can see why everyone makes such a big deal out of it. Somehow everyone just comes together.”

Taylor took Estela’s hand, stroking the back of it with gentle fingers. “Does that include you? They love you, you know.”

Estela’s eyes seemed to glaze over as she watched her friends. There was the usual squabbling, of course, but it was all good-natured. “I know they do. And you. God, they love you so much. It makes it harder.”

“Hey… why don’t we leave everyone to it for a little while? It’s not as if we’d be any help—there’s only so many people who can fit around a tree, even one as big as that.”

They sat down together upon the windowsill across the other side of the hotel’s grand lower floor. For all the want to be near to friends, what troubled them both could not be shared. To bring anyone in on the secret would be to risk the collapse of Taylor’s resolve… and with it the future of the entire world.

Estela leaned against the cold glass of the window, gazing out at the gentle snowfall upon La Huerta’s alpine landscape. Taylor had once told her that they’d spend time together in the snow when they returned to Hartfield. Ha. They’d been so naïve. Or Taylor had been; Estela hadn’t really believed in such a peaceful, humdrum future… but for a moment she’d imagined it. To do so now was to have that icy wind sweep a chill through her heart.

“It’s catching up with me, Taylor. I thought I was strong enough to get you through this, to do what you need to do, but….” Estela shook her head. “I’ll pull through. For you. But fuck, it hurts sometimes. Nothing I can ever give you is enough….”

“No—no, you can’t think like that.” Her eyes shining with desperation, Taylor took her wife’s face in her hands. “I love you, Estela. If I only get to spend one Christmas with you, that still makes me the luckiest woman who ever lived.”

Estela held her gaze steadily. “All these firsts… first and _only._ I feel as though I can’t endure another one, but can’t bear to let a second be wasted _feeling_ it _._ And I can’t bear to take away from your happiness. Taylor, I’m sorry.”

Her throat dry, Taylor struggled to push words forth. _Estela_ was sorry? It was her, Taylor’s, fault. The choice she’d been cornered into making was nonetheless _her_ choice. Making each day count was getting more difficult with the end terrifyingly near. But they had to.

“No. Don’t say you’re sorry. Please. Please don’t. It’s cruel, but we make the ‘onlys’ matter. You, and me. Hanging on together”

It was how they had to live their lives. Their love was a star burning too bright to last. It was to shine fleetingly, then die to bring about an impossible resurrection. One life for the many… the countless.

“’Stel? If you need to take the rest of the day and just, just… _cry_ … I think I might need that too.”

Without realising she was doing it, Estela tightened her grip on Taylor’s hand. Her breath shuddered, and she had to force down a lump in her throat. Eyes closed, she leaned down to slowly caress Taylor’s forehead with tender lips. When she opened her eyes once more, she met her wife’s, shimmering with tears that fought to fall. She drew Taylor into her arms, leading her to a place where they could have solitude, where they could let their emotions come forth. Being brave could wait for another day.

* * *

Time flew by, as it always seemed to when a deadline loomed, and Christmas Eve rolled around swiftly. Watching her friends count down the days was agonising for Taylor; she had just a couple of weeks left, and each day knocked off their communal advent calendar was like another knife to her chest. Her first Christmas, her last, it was more than just a holiday, it heralded the end of her life.

With Taylor’s sacrifice imminent, she and Estela had stepped up their intensive routine of physical training. For all they knew, it could have no bearing on whether her human form was capable of surviving without the piece of Vaanu at its centre, but it was something to hang onto. If nothing else, the sense of purpose kept the both of them from giving in to despair, and it was an excuse to stay close together, fighting side by side for what mattered. In many ways, it spoke of who they were.

Estela broke her plank pose to watch her wife. To begin with, Taylor had struggled, but now, she barely seemed to notice the passing of seconds. So much of what they did together had become effortless, natural. “That’s two minutes, Taylor. Sit-ups, now.”

“Fifty and then we break. We really should be getting back.”

Their recent afternoon workout sessions had tended to stretch until long after dark, but the holiday meant that emotions were running high– the Catalysts had an unspoken agreement to ride out such times as a unit. A family.

Their light layers of sweat quickly cooled against their skin in the frosty air as they trudged through the snow back to the Elysian Lodge. The sun, thankfully, was still in the sky and radiating its rays onto them, no clouds to obstruct the warmth. It was nothing, though, next to the cosiness that filled the mountainside resort. Cosiness, and the scent of gingerbread and sweets in the air.

“Mmmm!” Taylor exclaimed as she opened the door. “I think I’ve died and gone to Candyland!”

Estela kicked off her boots and followed her wife through to the inviting space where the Christmas tree overlooked what looked like a gingerbread house builders’ convention. She cocked her head in quiet amusement at the intense concentration that lined the faces of the most serious builders— it didn’t take much for fierce competition to rise up between her friends. Estela was honestly glad of the distraction; she’d been dreading Christmas.

“Happy Christmas Eve, you two!” Grace called out from beside Aleister and their joint creation. “You’re just about in time to help judge the contest.”

“Okay, two things,” Taylor quipped. “First; happy Christmas Eve back at you! Second; will there be tasting involved?”

Aleister blanched—impressive for one naturally so pale. “Do you have _any_ idea how much intricate confection-work goes into a gingerbread recreation of London’s Natural History Museum? Presented with such a celebration of Britain’s Romanesque architecture—which need I remind you has now perished—your boorish mind jumps straight to _your stomach_?”

“Oh, Al, they’ve been working out. They’ve got to be feeling a little bit peckish.” Grace offered the admirers of their creation a plate. “Thankfully, we have a few offcuts going spare!”

Taylor’s eyes lit up. “You are now, officially, the best. And really, your gingerbread museum looks absolutely amazing.”

They were in luck, for most of the group didn’t share Aleister’s qualms about actually eating the houses, even as they were still being built. As Raj assured them, offering Taylor and Estela each a rather suspicious smelling gingerbread leaf from his edible greenhouse—food was best for warming hearts _and_ filling bellies.

“Exactly how much marijuana did you put in these?” Estela asked, sniffing her biscuit. The fact that Raj had labelled his gingerbread house ‘4/20 High Street’ put an amused little smile on her face, but she was not quite in the mood for getting stoned.

Raj shrugged jovially. “Just enough, my doodlejumps! Or if you’re not feeling it, the actual building is Grandma’s old favourite—spiced to perfection that a little ginger kick. …And no fun extras thrown in.”

“You know, Raj,” Taylor said, delicately placing her iced leaf back in the gingerbread greenhouse, “I think we might just try Grandma’s recipe this time, but save some of the funny leaves for us for later, okay?”

In the end, it was Raj’s gingerbread house that won the popular vote, beating out Diego and Varyyn’s biscuity hobbit house. While Aleister passionately opposing the ruling, Estela retreated to the couch across from the Christmas tree, where Quinn and Michelle were keeping out of the argument, and instead sharing a sweet bite together.

Quinn scooched on over, offering a seat between the two of them. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine,” Estela said simply. She folded her legs up against her chest and looked wistfully around the room. Everyone was putting on brave faces, but the sadness lurking beneath the surface couldn’t be denied. “And… and you? This must bring a lot back. You said you used to bake with your parents at Christmas.”

“Ages ago, yeah…. That was actually when I first started baking. I used to make cupcakes decorated like Christmas puddings and take them around to my grandparents. My grandma used to make the biggest Christmas dinner, but she’d make sure everyone saved room for my cupcakes. Except for that one year I was in hospital… but then everyone came around to see me. They said it wasn’t Christmas without their little cupcake fairy.”

Michelle caught herself gazing into Quinn’s face, glowing in the candlelight. Blushing, she turned her attention to Estela. “Did you celebrate Christmas, Estela? I don’t really know the first thing about San Trobidan tradition…”

 _It doesn’t matter. It’s all gone now._ Estela shrugged. Maybe she could have it back. At least… partially. But maybe it wasn’t worth the price she’d pay. Couldn’t it stay like this? Couldn’t they keep their little community, busted and kind of broken, but fitting together as I they’d always been meant to be that way? It didn’t matter if she had to sit through a thousand of Aleister’s petulant outbursts, have to endure any more of Jake’s increasingly corny nicknames, or listen through Diego’s valiant attempts at justifying the _Star Wars_ prequel trilogy… it was all worth it to feel like this. To feel home. Chances were, when she’d lose Taylor, she’d lose that too. She’d return to San Trobida, and this Christmas would be nothing but a memory of a brief period in her life when she actually felt peace.

“It’s okay, Estela,” Quinn reassured gently. “I understand if it’s too painful. You’re… definitely not the only one overwhelmed by it all right now.”

“No,” Estela croaked. “It’s okay. It’s honestly… it’s nice to have friends to share with.” She took a deep breath. “We always did most of our celebration on Christmas Eve; it was the tradition when my mother and _tio_ were growing up in Colombia. San Trobida is a bit closer to the American way of doing things, but Mom and Tio liked to keep a bit of their home, their childhood. It was nothing big; a present each, light the house with candles and share a _natilla._ That was like a custard dessert that we had only at Christmas.” Estela’s gaze then cast downwards. “After Mom died, we never really did _anything._ It didn’t feel like there was any point. I forgot it could be this nice… so, thank you.”

From either side, Estela was wrapped in a hug; Quinn and Michelle enveloping her in a warm sandwich of arms.

“It’s been a long time since I actually enjoyed these things too,” Quinn said, brushing away a tear. “I miss how it used to be, before Mom and Dad were at each other’s throats. They’re gone now… but to me it feels more like the Christmases I used to love than I’ve known for years. And then I feel such _guilt_ because it’s almost a relief.”

Estela squeezed Quinn tight, her grip almost too firm in her desire to comfort. As far as she was concerned, Quinn was the last person who should feel guilty—the girl was good to the core, not a mean bone in her body. It was small wonder she couldn’t stand seeing people she loved tearing one another down. “Fighting is tiring” she said. “You’re allowed to have had enough. It doesn’t mean you love your parents less.”

“She’s right,” Michelle declared with a nod. “They’d want you to be happy. Knowing we are… _mostly_ keeping our heads up and living our lives… it makes this bearable to know it’s what our families would have wanted. You’re going to live a full life, Quinn. It’s all your mom and dad ever wanted.”

Overhearing the conversation from her perch on the side of the plush armchair where Craig and Zahra were bent together over a game console, Taylor felt the familiar clenching of a cold fist around her heart. _Soon. You’ll fix it soon._ She had to at least _try_ and reassure herself. This time next year, Quinn would have a chance to spend the holidays with her family again—perhaps peaceful at last. There was so much that Michelle never said about the family she’d left behind, but Taylor knew she longed to have mended the bridges she’d burned. And Estela…. Taylor shuddered. For all their efforts, she couldn’t pretend there was much hope that she’d survive to be a part of the family Estela dreamed of.

The plinking of piano keys pulled Taylor from her thoughts. She turned to see Aleister tickling the ivories to the tune of ‘O Holy Night’. A hush fell over the group. Zahra and Craig looked up from their console, suddenly uncharacteristically disinterest in who won or who lost. Taylor watched as one by one, her friends gathered around the piano, stirred into mourning. She joined Estela, and offered a comforting hand to hold to Diego, whose eyes had begun to well. Sean handed her a candle. The next day would bring celebration, but not before this night saw tribute given to those who’d fallen in a burning world so far away. Voices raised in song, scratchy with emotion, wishing peace to families lost.

Taylor woke slowly to a darkened room that had fallen quiet, to the scents of pine and gingerbread in the air, and the feel of warmth her friends—her family—offered her. With Estela’s arms around her, she was home.

“Everyone’s heading off to bed now,” Estela said softly. Delicately, she kissed her lover’s forehead. “Do you want to…?”

Taylor opened her eyes fully, meeting Estela’s gaze. There, she saw the bittersweet storm of love and impending loss that had waged there for many months. She offered a smile, a small comfort, but it was meant with all the care in the world. “I’d like that. Get our own private Christmas underway.”

The opulent suite that the couple had laid claim to on their memorable New Year’s night remained theirs, a cosy getaway that felt all the more comforting for the frigid conditions beyond the window. The bedframe, fireplace and doorways had been adorned with twinkling lights, a throwback to traditions from Estela’s childhood.

While Estela set about getting a fire going, Taylor dove into her bedside drawer and pulled out something like a small package, delicately wrapped and strung with ribbon. Gift in hand, she settled down on the rug beside Estela, and waited for her to be ready. “Estela,” she said, “I have something for you.”

Confusion lined Estela’s face as she sat back. She looked at Taylor quizzically. Was this some kind of joke?

“I know we said…” Taylor bit her lip, a little unsure of herself, then placed the parcel in her wife’s hands. “It’s just something small.”

Apparently not a joke. It sure as hell wasn’t funny. Estela hesitated before unwrapping the gift. They’d agreed… they’d agreed _weeks_ ago that they’d not exchange gifts. But Taylor apparently couldn’t help herself. As Estela pulled back the paper, she glanced up, seeing a sweet, eager smile on her wife’s face. Taylor clearly meant well. Something small, elongated and metallic rolled into Estela’s lap. A brass and leather spyglass, heavy for its diminutive size. The metal was cold as the icy lump that formed in its recipient’s gut.

“I thought it might be nice for star-gazing” Taylor explained. “It’s not the most powerful telescope ever made, not by a long shot, but it could make the stars feel a little closer. And that part of me that’ll be with Vaanu, that’ll be closer too.”

For a long moment, Estela said nothing as she turned the spyglass over in her hands. She didn’t want this. Something to remember Taylor by? It was the _last thing_ she wanted to be presented with– a reminder of a future bleak and lonely. “Thank you, Taylor. It’s… it’s….” _No. We don’t have the time to bullshit feelings away._ She looked up, meeting Taylor’s earnest, loving gaze with a stony frown. _“_ We agreed.”

Taylor reached and took Estela’s trembling hand in her own. “I know. I know we did, and I don’t need anything; I just wanted to–”

“You wanted to give me something. Even though there’s no damn point in me bothering to give you something in return? Don’t you realise how much that fucking hurts?”

“’Stel…”

Breath rattling, Estela tugged her hand away and stood up. “I _told_ you! I…. I need some space. And _this time,_ when I tell you what I need, God, Taylor, just _listen_!”

The door to the ensuite bathroom slammed closed, and Taylor was alone. She gasped through a sob as a muffled cry of despair reached her ear. How could she be so _stupid?_ It took everything in her not to run to the door, to hammer it down until she could throw her arms around Estela and tell her how sorry she was. But it wasn’t about what would make herself feel better… if Estela needed space, Taylor would hold back. She paced worriedly, eyes flitting sporadically to the antique clock in the corner as the sobs and howls quietened to sniffles all but inaudible through the wall. Over and over she retraced her path, listening as the shower started up. _That’s positive, right? She’s cooling off?_ Taylor’s breath shuddered as she fought back tears. _I’m such an idiot._ It should have been obvious. Estela had made her agree to forgo gift-giving not out of a flippant wish to keep things simple, but because the knowledge that any material thing received would outlive Taylor was utterly heartbreaking. _I can’t believe I missed it._

A while later, the door creaked open.

“Hey.” Estela emerged with puffy red eyes. Clothed just in a towel, hunched in on herself, she appeared atypically vulnerable.

From the bed where she’d finally settled to calm her own emotions, Taylor lifted her head. “Hey,” she replied. Her heart ached; she could see the hurt there in Estela’s face. The last thing she’d ever wanted. “I… fucked this all up.”

Estela let a low huff escape her, but she offered Taylor a weak smile. _I can’t bear it, Taylor. I can’t._ “Yes,” she quietly affirmed instead. “A little.”

“Estela, I’m sorry. I got caught up and forgot how it might affect you.”

“I know it’s just you showing you love me, and I appreciate it. But I wasn’t prepared. That wasn’t fair.”

Taylor stepped forward tentatively. “You shouldn’t have had to be prepared, and I’m so, so sorry for putting that on you. I’m listening now. What do you need?”

Estela considered for a moment before responding. “There’s only one thing,” she said softly. “It’s something—some _one_ – I’m terrified of losing. You’re it, Taylor. There’s nothing else.”

Her eyes misty, Taylor reached for Estela’s hand and led her to the rug by the hearth, not breaking eye contact for a moment. “Then nothing else matters.” She sat down and picked up the discarded spyglass. “How about… we could use this together. Hike up into the hills and go stargazing. _Together_. It’ll be a gift for both of us. Is… is that better?”

Estela edged in close, letting Taylor envelop her body with the heavy blanket. “That’s perfect. Thank you.” She closed her eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to Taylor’s cheek. “I understand you wanting to do the whole gift thing. I mean, how could you not? You’re _you_. All you’ve ever wanted to do is give.”

“I guess a piece of me didn’t want to never get to do that part of Christmas. Giving something special to the one I love. But it’s not meant to be about me… and I’ve asked so damn much of you. I should’ve just listened to what you were telling me…”

“Taylor. _Mi amor;_ it doesn’t matter now. You’re in my arms… that’s all I wanted. And you’re in mine. I love you, Taylor. I love you so goddamn much I sometimes think it’s gonna break me. But I’d rather risk being torn apart than miss a moment of you.”

“I love you too. With all my heart.” Taylor pressed her lips to Estela’s, soft, and sweet, and tender. “For as long as I’m alive, I will always hear you. I guess a part of me was too scared to accept what you were trying to say.”

“It’s okay to be afraid. I am. Afraid.” Estela shuddered. “It’s creeping deeper and deeper in me. I can’t shake it anymore, it’s always just… _there._ It keeps me focused. I’m… I’m _terrified_ of being alone in the dark again, broken like I was when Mom–” _You won’t let it happen. Whatever way this ends, however much it hurts, you’re strong enough._ “As long as there’s a chance… I’ll fight til my last breath to bring you home. And we’ll do this year after year. You can bring me all the cheesiest, tackiest shit you want, every damn Christmas, because it won’t be a parting gift, it’ll just be you being _happy_. And I will be too.”

Basking in the light of the crackling fire, Taylor felt the warmth go right to her core. She closed her eyes against the crook of Estela’s neck, breathing in the fruity freshness of damp just-washed hair and the incomparable comfort of her wife’s scent.

“Mmmm…. We’ll make our own traditions. I’ll drive your _tio_ half-crazy by skipping around the housing singing Christmas songs for weeks on end.”

Estela laughed, the sound coming out breezier than she thought possible. Somehow Taylor could do that to her. But that was it; that was the dream. To think that _somehow_ , they might all be together; safe and sound. Free to indulge in stupid festive frivolities. “That old Grinch? He’d have you shipped to the North Pole with all the other obnoxiously merry little elves.”

“As if you’d ever let anyone take me from you.”

Again, Estela felt a hard lump rise in her throat. “As if,” she croaked. _Never. Never._ She surged forward, towel falling away as she pulled Taylor flush against her body. _Never._ Her lips collided messily with Taylor’s mouth, to be greeted with a soft moan and captured in a passionate dance.

Two mugs of hot cocoa cooled with the night air, along with the _natilla,_ untouched as the lovers lost themselves in one another. Beside the rug, a pile of clothes had been strewn in what must have been a fervent rush. The roar of the fire slowly dimmed, and with it, the orange incandescence that had radiated across the room. In their thick blanket, Estela and Taylor were oblivious to the passing of time, cocooned from the world and the forces that sought to tear them apart.

Warmed by Taylor’s bare skin pressed against her, Estela felt her whole body alight with a glow… some sort of defiant contentment. Her eyelids grew heavy– snug, swathed in with her wife, the uttermost comfort made it all too easy to give in. She fondly murmured against Taylor’s hot, crimson cheek. “Come on… we’ll wake up freezing if we fall asleep on the floor.”

With a rumbling purr, Taylor pulled her love closer. “You make a compelling point, but _god_ I could just stay curled up here with you forever.”

“If you want to be awake enough to enjoy your first Christmas– and I have a feeling it’s going to be a big one– you should get a good night’s sleep.” She kissed Taylor’s cheek through a smile. “Don’t worry, you can curl up with me once we get into bed.”

“Ugh… deal.”

The final embers crackled feebly and died, unseen by the room’s occupants as they collapsed into the lavish four-poster bed. Their naked bodies were exposed to the air just long enough that Taylor and Estela dove into beneath the covers with a desperate drive for warmth… and they found it as they clutched one another tight.

“… Sleep well, Taylor… Happy Christmas.”

Oh, how Taylor longed to reassure ‘ _the first of many_ ’, but she couldn’t quite believe it. Instead, came forth words she that held sincerity undoubted. “’Stel, I love you. Happy Christmas, my starlight.”

The softest of purrs against Taylor’s jaw spoke what the words could not adequately express. “…Love you…”


End file.
